


Silence

by teaish (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Apartment AU, F/M, canon divergence maybe, i'm on a theon greyjoy roll, woot woot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/teaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Theon?” Jeyne calls tentatively. “Theon, it’s Jeyne Poole, the girl who’s living right below you. I live in the apartment below yours. I always hear you dead at night. Your singing or your feet or the creaking bed. Three months and seven days ago, the sound stopped, and I knew you were not okay.”</p><p>Based on <a href="http://perfectlyrose.tumblr.com/post/127492453945/ladiieschoice-ok-but-a-your-apartment-is-next">this</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**THERE ARE MOANS AGAIN.**

Jeyne covers her face with a pillow, groaning loudly. It’s probably his girlfriend, the blonde, leggy one Jeyne saw once a while as she peeked outside the hole on the door. Not that she’s stalking – she’s just curious.

She closes her eyes and tried to imagine a big middle finger floating above her and willed it to come right through the ceiling and into his apartment. That doesn’t help muffle the sounds, however.

She removes her pillow and glares at her ceiling. “I hate you!”

That doesn’t stop the awful moans.

“Theon _freaking_ Greyjoy, if you don’t stop this, I’ll – urgh!”

Jeyne Poole has been in this apartment for two years, and yet the guy – Theon Greyjoy, she found out -- above her apartment had never failed to annoy her, despite the fact they’ve never even talked in the first place. The most they’ve interacted is that moment his shoulder brushed against her that one time. He’d smiled his smug smile at her, and continued to walk away.

At least once a week, Jeyne could perfectly hear creaking beds. Twice a week his feet dancing to _Shake It Off_ or something. And every other day his voice shouting off some song.

All these happen somewhere around ten PM to three in the morning. And the result? Jeyne and her humongous eye bags.

“I hate you I hate you I hate you can you screw your girlfriend a little more quietly?” she says loudly at her ceiling. Of course, like all her statements, it goes unheard over the moans.

“Ugh.” Jeyne presses her pillow over her head so hard she fears she’s gonna kill herself. Great, killed because some jerk upstairs couldn’t keep their moans down.

In the end, Jeyne chooses her alternative: putting her earphones on and playing some mellow tunes to tide her over. She closes her eyes and sighs contently, turning on her side to sleep. She pulls the blanket over her face.

Then just as she thinks she’s slept for mere seconds, a knock comes on the door.

“What the hell!” she yells drowsily. “Get out!”

A fluttery laugh comes in from outside.  “It’s me, stupid.”

“Sansa,” drawls Jeyne, “it’s like, three in the morning.”

“Three? It’s _ten_ in the morning.”

Jeyne throws her blanket out in surprise. “What?” She runs to open the door and lets Sansa Stark in. She’d always looked elegant and beautiful, even in her messy red bun and sweatpants.

“My classes --” starts Jeyne, running to both microwave something and boil water, but Sansa’s laugh stops her.

“Good thing it’s Saturday, right?” she says. Jeyne stops in her tracks. She groans loudly.

“ _Screw you --_ ”

“—Theon Greyjoy, I know,” Sansa fills in, smiling. “What’s his crime now?”

“I can hear him and his girlfriend!” she cries. “They were moaning and shouting and I pity the poor bed. One more and it’ll fall apart, I swear.”

Sansa laughs again. “Yesterday it was --”

“It was him dancing and singing to _Shake It Off_ for _eight_ times! I counted, Sansa, I _counted!_ ” Jeyne fumes and she sits down on the chair, waiting for the water to boil. “Then he sort of jumps around for half an hour more.”

“What can we do?” Sansa sits beside her. “It’s Theon.”

“No, it’s not Theon,” Jeyne says. “It’s _stupid._ ”

“Whatever you say, Jeyne, whatever you say.”

Jeyne rolls her eyes at her.

 

 

That night, it is silence.

Well, that isn’t exactly silence. Jeyne hears a raised voice or two, but it’s silence all the same. Jeyne smiles at herself, pleased. It is rare when Theon Greyjoy isn’t having sex or dancing or singing loudly. Jeyne had learned to treasure this. She closes her eyes and slept a whole eight hours this time.

 

 

The next night it is silent too.

Jeyne thinks it’s weird, but she very rarely had complete sleep, so she turned over and sleeps again.

 

 

The night next to that is the same: silent.

 _Now_ Jeyne knows something’s wrong. Theon Greyjoy never went for three silent days in a row before. Something’s wrong.

The silence is as unsettling as the noise had been. Jeyne Poole goes through a fitful sleep that night, wondering what’s wrong. Hoping it wasn’t that bad.

 

 

The whole week’s night is silent.

Jeyne’s eyes refuse to close. She should be telling herself that this is a good thing; she’d wished for it once upon a time, right? But now that the time has come, Jeyne couldn’t catch a wink.

She spends hours looking up at her ceiling before she can sleep her usual Theon-included sleeping arrangement again.

 

 

Jeyne is waiting for the elevator door to open when Theon Greyjoy’s sullen face greets her as the silver doors open.

She stares at him, and he at her, but they couldn’t just _stare_ forever. She steps in the elevator, keeping quite a space between them.

Theon Greyjoy is handsome, Jeyne always readily admits it to herself, with the tall stature and the grey eyes and black hair. She’s almost had never seen her without a smile of his face.

This Theon Greyjoy right beside her is not the Theon she knows. He is not smiling and his grey eyes are downcast. His hands are folded behind him and he never, not once, cracks a joke or laughs. Jeyne hasn’t has the pleasure of actually talking to him, but based on the other apartment owners, that’s what Theon always does.

Or did, at this rate. The elevator door opens at the ground floor, and Theon _flees_. He doesn’t run; he _flees._  Jeyne stares at his retreating form before she turns to walk towards the coffee shop she and Sansa always hang out, her steps small and her mind wandering.

Sansa is there when she arrives, a laptop open on the table and a cold coffee at the side. She slides down on the seat in front of her.

Sansa lifts her blue eyes at her. “Hey, Jeyne.” Her eyes flicker back to the screen.

“Hey.”

Maybe it was her voice that gives it away. Sansa looks at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She hesitates, before asking her, “Do you know Theon Greyjoy?”

She laughs. “That guy who lives right above you you always complain about? Yes, I know him.”

“No, like, outside you and me, do you know _know_ him?”

Sansa shakes her head. “Not really, no. Why? You gonna prank him?”

“We’re adults, Sansa. We don’t prank.”

“That’s what society says.”

Jeyne throws her a look. Sansa grins.

“It’s…it’s just I’m worried,” she says. “His apartment’s silent for a whole week, Sans, a whole week. And he wasn’t even smiling when I got into the elevator with him, and Theon’s famed for his smiles.”

“Aww, that’s cute, Jeyne.” Sansa smiles teasingly. “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted, silence? I can remember all your curses at him, you know.”

Jeyne knows. She remembers _asshole_ and _shitface_ clearly, as well as _asshat_. “Something’s wrong with him, Sansa. I can feel it.”

Sansa sobers up. “What do you want to do?”

Jeyne shrugs. She takes Sansa’s coffee and takes a huge gulp. Then she places it down and plays with her thumbs.

Sansa looks at her for a very long time before she says lightly, “Now, are we going to finish this stupid project or what?”

 

 

It’s been two months and seven days since a noise is heard in Theon Greyjoy’s apartment. And with each day, Jeyne Poole is getting worried.

He and Jeyne had passed each other once in a while, but he is not smiling. He is never smiling. Jeyne herself had pulled up her lips in a smile, but Theon either didn’t see her or didn’t care. He is always staring at her like she was translucent.

She had been pulling up herself together for longer than she’d like to admit, but today, _today_ she’s gonna do something. She is worried!

Her face is streaked with flour and she smells of vanilla and chocolate, and her hands are messy. The oven clinks.

The cupcakes are ready. Jeyne puts on a mitt and pulled them out. Chocolate waifs in the air and she smiles. These are just cupcakes, but maybe they’ll cheer him up.

Too late to back out. She’d baked two and a half dozens of cupcake and she couldn’t eat it all herself.  She puts them in a box, wraps them in cellophane, and spends a few more minutes cleaning herself up. She lets her brown her out of their usual ponytail and takes a deep breath.

Too late to back out. She leaves her apartment and walks upstairs, deciding to use the stairs this time. Jeyne walks as slow as possible but Theon Greyjoy’s door is in front of her way before she’s ready.

_Knock, knock, knock._

No one answers.

“Theon?” Jeyne calls tentatively. “Theon, it’s Jeyne Poole, the girl who’s living right below you.”

Still, no one answers.

“Theon, I’ve got cupcakes.”

Too late to back out. She raises her hand and knocks continually, never stopping her rapid knocks. Her arms go weary but she doesn’t stop.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock._

Her hand is still on her door when it flies open. Theon Greyjoy stands there, glaring at her like he’d never glared at anyone else.

“What is it, Poole?” he snaps. “You’ve been knocking for ten minutes straight, and I don’t even know you and --”

Jeyne raises her hand, the one who had the cupcake box, and tries to smile despite her entire body yelling _danger!_ “Can I come in?”

Theon rolls his eyes so hard Jeyne thinks they’d fall off, but he lets her in all the same. Jeyne enters in small, apprehensive steps and closes the door behind her.

“What do you want?” he says.

Jeyne places the box on Theon’s table, but she opens it and gets a cupcake. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

Theon stares at her, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I live in the apartment below yours,” she says again. “I always hear you dead at night. Your singing or your feet or the creaking bed.”

Theon has the audacity to flush, but he averts his gaze. He sits down on his sofa.

“Three months and seven days ago, the sound stopped.” She gathers up her courage and sits beside him. “And I knew you were not okay.”

It is a very long time before someone speaks. It is Theon. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She hands him the cupcake.

He accepts it, and for the first time in months, Theon Greyjoy smiles. At _her_ , no less. Jeyne grins back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another Theon x someone fic. I'm on a roll, woo! I hope you like it :-)


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